A post by my friend Ich...
“Are you my Momma?”
She was standing there, holding a battered doll for dear life, probably her only possession.
We were on the beach, next to the Pacific.
She was knee high to a grasshopper, maybe three years old, four max and directed the question to my step daughter, a momma in her own right.
The little girl was an orphan in Mexico. She asked the question in Spanish. I didn’t understand her and my step daughter translated while holding the girl on her lap.
A few weeks later, friends of mine who owned a restaurant/bar on the coast asked me if I could help them on Saturday morning.
“Sure,” I replied.
The next morning I drove to my friends’ home and noticed quite a few children and mothers standing near the guard house.
Half hour later I was passing out tickets and welcoming children of all ages, including more than a handful of babies, for two bicycles. Over three hundred orphans and a few poor locals came to the lane dedicated to the annual festivity. They were each fed and given a bag full of clothing and one or two toys.
I noticed a boy frowning, not understanding why his bag was full of girl’s stuff. A moment later, I saw a girl with the same problem. I introduced the little tykes and helped them switch bags and received two big smiles.
This event sobered me to the realities of life, but also lifted my spirits at seeing so many delight in their good fortune at something that kids in more affluent places would not appreciate.
All the volunteers I knew, about twenty, were regular patrons at the Restaurant/Bar.
They helped make the orphans lives a little more pleasant.
As far as the little girl that this story started with, I looked for her that Saturday morning, but did not see her. We stayed in touch with her orphanage and had clothes and money sent there.
I discovered the owner of the hotel by the beach sponsored a day for the orphans a few times a year, lending personnel, giving food and other things so the children could enjoy.
The point of this God Spot, you never know where a God Spot comes from, when it happens or who may be involved
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One thought on “She was standing there, holding a battered doll…”
Thanks Ich. Life is full of God Spots. It is an honor when God allows you to see them. I think much of life we live with blinders on. Thanks for helping the children. God bless. archie